


absolute horizon

by kyluxtrashcompactor



Series: laws of gravity [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exile, M/M, Not a retelling of TROS, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Stand alone sequel to Gravity Well, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Fix-It, Temporary Amnesia, not a redemption story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:02:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28677123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyluxtrashcompactor/pseuds/kyluxtrashcompactor
Summary: They are at the epicenter of war, but they are no longer two halves of a power struggle. Side by side, Kylo Ren and General Hux have begun to reshape the First Order around their tentative new bond. When the return of a vengeful Sith emperor threatens their hard-won stability, Ren vows to destroy him.With Kylo on the hunt, Hux must face an old threat alone. Allegiant General Pryde is a relic from Hux's dark past and loyal to the decaying emperor, and with the Supreme Leader gone, he seizes his chance to claim the might of the First Order in Palpatine's name.In the chaos over Exegol, Hux watches everything he's over worked for obliterated. Wounded, he flees, unable to reach Ren and fearing the worst. It is only months later, in hiding and desperate for news, that Hux learns of Ren's death in the battle with the emperor.Hux sets out to find the last person to see him alive, Rey, to confirm the truth or die seeking it. His search leads him to Tatooine, and when asking questions in a Mos Eisley cantina, he finds the last thing he expects.Ren.Except that Ren calls himself Ben Solo now, and has no idea who Armitage Hux is.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Series: laws of gravity [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2102139
Comments: 110
Kudos: 244





	1. Introduction

**Important Notes Regarding This Fic**

First and foremost, THIS STORY IS NOT A RETELLING OF THE RISE OF SKYWALKER. I do cover some of the same time period, but I do so from a more intimate and inside perspective through both Kylo and Hux's eyes. The events of TROS will be merely a background at the beginning to the new material. Most of the story takes place following the battle of Exegol. 

I resurrect Kylo. I do my best to explain it, but ya'll are just going to have to be happy with "The Force Works In Mysterious Ways" lol. 

This is not a redemption story. 

Lastly, for my own comfort, I will not have anything happen between Kylo/Ben and Hux without Kylo/Ben knowing that Hux believes him to be another person. No deception takes place, everyone makes informed decisions in their interactions.

* * *

My intention is for this story to stand alone and be accessible to readers who have not read Gravity Well. As such, I'm providing a brief summary of Gravity Well here and some key notes. This will explain to new readers some of the references that come up in chapter one and elsewhere, but these references will be minimal because this story has its own theme. 

**About Gravity Well:**

**SPOILER ALERT**

This fic was written just after The Last Jedi, and operates with several premises that were, unsurprisingly, later rendered "canon divergent" by TROS. Most notably, Snoke's identity in Gravity Well was revealed to be a war profiteer who had been, for millennia, funneling weapons and funds to whatever side had the most credits to spend.

Kylo and Hux journey to **a planet known as S9-02** in search of what they expect to be Snoke's hidden fortune and clues to his past. They crash land on the jungle planet, only to find it inhabited by deadly alien lifeforms. They are forced to work together to make it through the jungle and to a bunker which housed a research and storage facility. They face an alien species known as the _mirtis_ , which are violent, deadly creatures created by Snoke which wiped out the sentient population of the planet. 

They find a storehouse of **coaxium** , the fuel used to power hyperdrives, and the value of the stockpile is immense. They meet **a droid named AVA** , who they take with them when they leave the planet.

While they are away from the First Order, several officers stage a coup, believing Hux to be dead. They learn of this information while on S9-02. Also revealed to them by the droid AVA is a database through which Snoke had tracked Force sensitives across the ages. **Hux learns that his mother was Palpatine's daughter, making him Palpatine's grandson.** This will not play a role of any significance in the story, for various reasons. 

They are able to get off the planet when they take control of a shuttle sent to "rescue" them. They return to the shipyard where they had the Supremacy towed to be repaired. There they become guests on the Restitution, commanded by Captain Dystra, a staunch supporter of Hux. They are assigned to ambassadors' quarters, which are individual quarters separated by a conference room. This allows Hux and Ren to cohabitate in relative secrecy.

The story ends with Hux and Ren resuming command of the First Order side by side.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are two POVs in this story—Ren, and Hux.
> 
> You will see Ren's POV begin with the first sentence in BOLD. Hux's POV will begin with the first sentence italicized.

**A vortex.** Heavy emotions strung out and tattered and whirling in a furious circle with Hux at the center of it. Arms crossed, brows drawn so tightly over his nose that Kylo’s own head ached in sympathetic pain. 

The disembodied voice of Palpatine’s broadcast filled the room, resonant and dripping with fermented malice. Hux had turned the recording into a tool of self-flagellation, letting himself be sucked into it, spiraling down to the darkest depths of his insecurities and bitterness. 

“You should stop this,” Kylo murmured from the shadow of the entryway. 

Hux wouldn’t look at him. Kylo knew he didn’t want to acknowledge how much it bothered him, but why he didn’t think Kylo was aware remained a mystery. It had been going on for weeks, the emperor’s ghost a pall over their victorious return to the fleet. 

Hux had wanted to explain it away as a hoax in those first few days—disjointed recordings pieced together from old senate speeches or an uncanny mimic with an ambiguous agenda. 

_ At last, the work of generations is complete. _

At those words, Kylo saw Hux’s fingers clench, digging into the meat of his upper arm through his uniform. His knuckles paled. 

Kylo sighed and crossed the room, reaching over to the console and flicking the broadcast off. Hux didn’t snap at him this time like he had before. Instead, he shut his eyes and took a deep breath, like he was glad Kylo had done what he could not. 

Cautiously, Kylo touched him. A brush of fingers on his upper arms, palms sliding up to his shoulders, squeezing. Hux might as well have been carved of stone for how rigid he was with tension. Kylo dug at the trapezius muscles, pressing his thumbs in and willing Hux to relax. 

He didn’t know what to say. The one thing Hux wanted to hear—that this was not real—was something Kylo couldn’t tell him. Something Kylo had said to him on S9-02 haunted both of them—that were Palpatine alive, he would not share power with anyone. Not Kylo. Certainly not his Force-null, bastard grandson. 

Some game was at play, and whoever was behind this broadcast had made the first move. No matter who it was, even if it was somehow Palpatine, Kylo had to act soon. He’d been passive too long, not wanting to leave Hux alone with this, but the shadow over them was only thickening. 

“I will go,” he said quietly, voicing something he'd already decided, days ago. “I’ll find whatever is on the other side of this.” 

Hux turned his head slightly, showing Kylo a smooth, high cheekbone, pale, golden eyelashes. “Go where?”

Kylo didn’t know yet. “The Force will guide me.” 

Hux faced forward again and Kylo felt a stab of anger—not his own, but a single, sharp note that was the echo of words Hux no longer spoke aloud. He’d once ridiculed Kylo for trusting the Force, called his faith in it  _ mystical nonsense _ and worse, but his willingness to show Kylo open disdain had died somewhere on S9-02. 

Mostly. 

“And what will you do when you find...whoever this is?” 

Kylo’s lips twisted. He hadn’t overtly told Hux that he didn’t believe this was a hoax, but he thought Hux had guessed. And so he gave him the answer he’d already decided. 

“Destroy him. For good, this time.” He had no idea how he would do that because he couldn’t fathom what dark magic had either tied Palpatine to this mortal plane, or brought him back to it. 

Surprisingly, he felt some of the tension leave Hux’s body. Taut shoulders loosened some beneath his fingers and Hux rocked his head back slightly. Hux believed him. Whatever he thought of the Force, he trusted Kylo. 

“Will you tell him that he has a grandson?” Hux asked then, plainly bitter, but Kylo heard the wistful undercurrent. 

“Do you want me to?” he asked, moving his thumbs in heavy, tight circles at the base of Hux’s neck, where he carried much of his stress. 

Hux’s shoulder’s lifted and fell in a silent sigh. “No,” he admitted. 

Kylo knew it wasn’t because Hux was afraid of being assassinated for being an impediment. Rather, he didn’t want to face being seen as utterly insignificant on a truly galactic scale. It made Kylo’s chest ache. 

“You should finish going through the data AVA saved from S9-02,” he said, changing the subject. “I still sense that there’s something we missed.” 

Hux unfolded his arms at last, scrubbing his face with his palms. “I don’t know how you can sense something from electronic records,” he muttered. “Aren’t they incorporeal?” 

It might or might not have been an invitation to explain the machinations of the Force, but Kylo wasn’t in the mood for that sort of conversation. It invariably made him angry, which Hux often found amusing. And that made him  _ more _ angry.

Hux didn’t press it. “When will you leave?” 

Kylo was silent for a moment, warring with a pang of disappointment that Hux wasn’t arguing. Facing a Sith lord, ghost or not, was not a light undertaking, and if it was Palpatine, then Kylo was walking into something truly unnatural, unpredictable, sinister. 

Dangerous. 

“Tomorrow,” he told Hux, voice thick with the feeling he was struggling to hide. 

Hux turned his head again sharply as though to look Kylo in the eye, then pulled out of his grasp entirely and turned around to face him. 

“Tomorrow? No.” 

Kylo’s brows pinched together. “Why wait?”

Hux visibly floundered, mouth opening and then closing, jaw clenched. “There needs to be time to plan,” he finally said. 

His Force signature was discordant noise, loud and off-key. Hux had a lot of moods, many of them that Kylo still couldn’t read, but this one he knew well. Hux was suddenly and profoundly anxious. Meeting his round eyes, the green swallowed by a steel blue, Kylo realized it was because of him. Of the thought of not having him. 

“Next week, then,” Kylo murmured. Warmth had seeped in to soothe the hurt he’d felt only seconds before. Being able to see the things that Hux did his best to hide was something Kylo treasured profoundly, even if it pissed Hux off that he could. 

He saw Hux take a deep breath and exhale through his nose. His eyes narrowed just a little, and Kylo didn’t need the Force to know what he was thinking. He knew Kylo had sensed his fear, and was placating him. 

“If we only knew what we were actually dealing with…” Hux said. 

“It’s better if we find out before they play their cards.” 

Hux snorted, raising an eyebrow. “Have you ever even played Sabacc?” 

Kylo hadn’t, but Ben Solo had. Many times. A memory tried to force its way to the surface of his mind—his father, Chewbacca, a ten year old Ben, the holochess table on the Falcon. 

“No,” Kylo said, and shut the conversation down by cupping Hux’s face in his hand, turning it up, and kissing him softly on the lips. 

Hux stiffened at first, his lips cold and unyielding. Kylo drew back enough to meet his eyes then and saw them softened, so he kissed him again. This time, Hux responded with a slender hand on Kylo’s chest that drifted up to the side of his neck, thumb brushing the curve of his jaw, lips parted slightly. Kylo traced their shape with his own lips, curling an arm around Hux’s waist and coaxing him closer. 

Hux broke the kiss then, but only to press his body to Kylo’s. His forehead came to rest on Kylo’s shoulder, then his cheek, and Kylo put his arms around him, giving him the thing he was silently asking for. 

It wasn’t peace, and didn’t feel like consolation. _It was more like trying to stay aground in a gale-force wind._

And then the moment was broken by the door opening, making Hux jerk away from Kylo so quickly that Kylo had to plant the toe of his boot on the floor behind him to keep from stumbling. He took one look at the crewman standing pale-faced in the doorway and knew he’d seen them embracing one another. 

“What is it?” Kylo snapped.

The man’s mouth was slightly open, a data pad clutched in front of him, body turned part way like he’d been rooted there mid-flight. 

“I, uh…” he began, looking at Hux, and then back to Kylo. “I’m to perform a routine check of the…” Words failed him, apparently, because he merely gestured with his data pad in the direction of the room’s console.

“You’ve come to the wrong room,” Kylo growled at him. “And you saw nothing.” 

He watched the crewman’s face go slack and he glanced at his datapad, pressing a button with his thumb. Then he craned his neck around the doorway and checked the room’s designation. 

“This is the wrong room,” he muttered, then Kylo thought he heard him curse under his breath before he turned around and left without a backward look. The door closed behind him. 

“Did you just wipe his memory?” Hux asked incredulously. 

“Should I not have?” Kylo asked, looking at him. 

Hux just pursed his lips, but Kylo saw them turned up just a bit at one corner. Stepping closer again, Hux plucked at Ren’s belt, forefinger teasing the fold beneath the buckle up just a hair. 

“Come to my quarters,” Hux said. “One hour.” 

Kylo bit back a grin as he watched Hux cross the room and leave it. 

*******

_ The entry-chime on the door dinged. _ The commissary droid would assume no one was in the room if there was no response, and would code open the door and admit itself in order to complete its duty. Hux had always hated that about the damned things. 

The premise, of course, was that no one, officer or petty soldier, had anything to hide. Hux felt as though he’d always had secrets, and even if they were only in his mind, he valued the privacy of durasteel doors. 

He tapped the entrance pad and met the droid. It was a boxy contraption, its form interlocking panels, not terribly unlike a beverage cart. It observed the door open and registered Hux’s presence, oblivious to the fact that the grand marshal stood there dressed in a only a black, silk robe. 

“Supply credentials to secure delivery,” it demanded tonelessly. A keypad lifted from the top of the box-like body at a 45 degree angle. 

Hux pressed his thumb to it. 

“Identity confirmed,” the droid beeped, and there was a mechanical click as the crate it carried was unlocked from the trundle. It slid out on a sturdy tray and Hux took it. 

He turned wordlessly to go back into his quarters, then something Ren had said about treating droids poorly sprang to mind. He stopped, turning about to thank the thing for delivering the crate, but it was already wheeling down the corridor, back to its business. 

Hux rolled his eyes and shook his head at himself. What would it be next? Inviting his junior officers to tea? Ren was making him soft, just like Hux had suspected he would. 

The door closed behind him and he carried the crate—a plain, metal box, scuffed from repeated use—into the sitting area of his quarters.  _ Their quarters _ . Whatever it was now. 

Ren was sprawled across the sofa, half-dressed and staring at the ceiling, his fingers twitching one by one as though he was counting something. 

Hux set the box on the lounge table, letting it thump down and rattle the inlaid glass. Ren didn’t notice. 

“You’ve been day-dreaming for hours,” he said tersely.

“Not day-dreaming,” Ren mumbled, shutting his eyes. He hadn’t been sleeping much lately, which Hux was beginning to think was baseline for him. 

“Move,” he told Ren, swatting his bent knee. 

Ren shifted his legs, swung them over the edge of the couch and slowly sat up, stretching. He winced, rubbing his neck. 

“What’s on your mind now?” Hux asked, dropping down onto the cushion beside him. “Her, again?” He knew he sounded bitter. Now that they’d been back with the fleet for nearly a month, with the imminent threat of death curtailed, Ren had started to slip back into that pensive, post-Crait mire that Hux had been forced to goad him out of. 

“A lot of things,” Ren said curtly. It was his  _ I’m not going to talk about it because I don’t want your opinion _ tone. He nodded toward the commissary crate on the table, changing the subject. “What’s this?” 

Hux pursed his lips, warring with a fractious mood. He hated it when Ren was cagey like this, and he hated that it bothered him. It was obnoxiously saccharine crap to assume that just because they’d been through hell together, that they fucked and slept in the same bed, that Ren should have no secrets. 

Hux let a breath out through his nose, then reached over and pressed the release on the crate. 

“You haven’t eaten since yesterday morning,” he told Ren in a accusatory tone, like that was the scope of the problem here. Hux didn’t look at him as he drew out a palm-sized can. It was simple, made of tin and labeled with italicized, laser printed block lettering in small font. It was cold, just like Hux had insisted in his requisition order, and if it hadn’t been, Hux thought he might have hurled it at the wall. 

He wedged the tip of his finger underneath the tab and cracked it open, peeling it back far enough to verify that it was what he’d asked for, then handed it to Ren. There were two sets of individually wrapped silverware in the crate as well—recycled plastic that made Hux cringe, but there was no kitchenette in their quarters, and it was standard practice to pack them with any food that was sent here. Fortunate, because Hux had completely forgotten the need for it. He set it on the table where Ren would see it.

He heard the sound of metal tearing as Ren opened the can the rest of the way, followed by silence that made Hux worry this had been a stupid idea. He didn’t turn around to judge that by whatever expression was on Ren’s face, and instead took out his own meal. Simple, military issue MRE that some might consider boring, but Hux found comforting. Especially after the time he’d spent on S9-02 unsure where his next meal would come from, if it came at all. Everything about the military represented stability, including this. 

“Hux,” Ren said softly behind him. “This is sweet.”

That made Hux turn around, raising an eyebrow. “It’s fruit Ren. It’s supposed to be sweet. I thought you…”  _ Fuck, he was stupid _ . 

Ren had been mid-motion reaching for the silverware and looked up sharply to meet Hux’s eyes. “You. You’re sweet. To think of this.” 

Hux’s cheeks heated and he looked away abruptly, concentrating on opening the MRE. “I am not, nor have I ever been  _ sweet _ ,” he said, frowning.

He felt Ren’s hand on his back, palm sliding down his spine to the hollow above his hips, then it tucked around his waist and pulled him closer. “You are right now,” Ren insisted, leaning in to kiss the side of his head. 

Hux sighed, biting his tongue, which was often enough sharp. He’d earned his share of wounded looks from Ren, who seemed to expect that sharing a bed would change the core of Hux’s demeanor, and didn’t understand why they still bickered. 

Hence the can of cold fruit, an embarrassingly sentimental effort to apologize for a tiff they'd had that morning about Ren's obsession with the scavenger girl. Cold, canned fruit was, at least, something Hux  _ knew _ Ren liked, a contrast to the growing list of things Hux did that surprisingly upset him. 

Or maybe it wasn’t that surprising.

“So have you learned anything new?” Hux asked, the question barely more than a snarl. Three times in the last few weeks, Ren had suddenly blanked out, having what Hux thought at first was a seizure, but realized later was some sort of vision. 

“Not particularly,” Ren said. “But she’s looking for something.” 

“Well that’s useful,” Hux said, then regretted it. He took another breath and then another bite of his food.

The warm, heavy hand resting on Hux’s back withdrew. Hux heard the sound of metal tearing as Ren peeled the can of fruit open.

“Why does it bother you?” Ren asked after a moment of heavy silence. He just sounded curious. 

Hux didn’t really have an answer for that. Or at least not one that he’d even voice to himself in the privacy of his own head.  _ Jealousy _ . That kind of thing was Ren’s purview. 

“It doesn’t feel like  _ doing _ something,” he admitted instead. “This mystic stuff makes me feel impotent.” 

“It’s a means to an end,” Ren said. “Can’t put a blaster to her forehead if you can’t find her.” 

Hux snorted. They both knew that when...if...they found the scavenger girl, it wouldn’t culminate in a blaster to the head, and certainly not one in Hux’s hand. Rey was Kylo’s conquest.

Hux had his own. 

Thinking of Enric Pryde, of the way his cruel, pale eyes looked down that hawk’s beak nose at Hux in the throne room of the Supremacy, his own karking ship, made Hux’s blood simmer. It was a thorn that Ren had shoved into his side that day in the throne room when he didn’t allow Hux the chance to condemn the allegiant general along with the mutineers that had tried to usurp Hux’s command. Ren had told him, later, that he’d not realized that was even on the table, as Pryde’d nothing to do with the mutiny—was merely obeying Ren’s command in delivering the prisoners to their judgement. 

Hux had assumed that Ren would have sensed it from him that day, but Ren had said that what he read from Hux was not words, not whole thoughts, but something more like music. Chords. Hux had forced himself to admit that Ren might easily have assumed that whatever blaring cacophony of minor keys he’d been hearing that day was inspired by Landry, Peavey and his ilk, and not drummed up from the way Pryde stared him down like he was an insolent child playing pretend games. 

The recyclable utensil in Hux’s hand cracked at the tip, the tines of the fork snapped in half against the bottom of the MRE tray. Hux cursed under his breath and slapped the tray down on the table, appetite gone. Elbows on his knees, he hung his head, stretching the tense muscles in his neck and shoulders, curling his fingers into his palms and out again. 

He wanted to hit something. 

The can of fruit, empty now, appeared on the table beside his abandoned MRE. Ren touched Hux’s back again, but Hux twitched, shrugging him off. Standing up, Hux looked at him. 

“I’m going to the gym,” he said. 

Ren gave him one of his particular looks, like he was peering through Hux’s skin to find the reason for his mood. 

“Want some company?” he asked cautiously. 

Hux opened his mouth to say no, but then thought better of it. 

*******

The officer’s gym was not as frequented as those assigned to the junior crew and petty troopers, and so Hux was disappointed to find that it was marginally busy when they arrived. He had only a passing familiarity with Dystra’s crew, and only recognized one of the six people scattered around the room.

Hux had barely begun to give in to his irritation over it when Ren, behind him, spoke. 

“All of you. Out.” 

He hadn’t shouted it, but Hux saw the command draw the attention of each officer in the room. Ren had a way of delivering a message that rarely brooked argument, and then only from Hux, who had long ago adopted challenging him as a hobby. 

Various expressions greeted Ren’s orders, from alarm to confusion to trepidation, but the room’s occupants made haste to get out of his way. Several looks were flicked at Hux, all of them curious, and there was even a nod of respect from one who must have recognized him. He hadn’t made it a point to insinuate himself in Dystra’s command circle, even though he outranked her, as he knew exactly how much that rankled. She respected him, admired him even, and Hux preferred to cultivate that rather than step on her toes.

“Was that an involuntary Force suggestion that cleared the room, or does everyone really fear you that much?” Hux asked when the door shut behind the last of them. He glanced at Ren with one brow lifted. 

Ren gave him a narrow look. “Maybe they just respect me.” 

Hux doubted that. Ren wasn’t military, and career officers didn’t relate to his kind of power. It was better not to mention that, though, so he turned and walked across the gym to the locker room. 

A sanitation droid whisked out of the door just as Hux opened it, rolling toward the recently vacated gym equipment with singular purpose. Hux’s ruffled temper was soothed by it, as it often was by order and cleanliness, and he was likewise pleased by the pristine state of the changing facilities. Even the smell of industrial cleaning products had been tempered by something vaguely floral that made it smell purified rather than acridly antiseptic. This would be the gymnasium Dystra used, and Hux wondered if she had anything to do with it; the desk in her office was home to an exotic and fragrant black orchid that Hux found rather pleasing.

He glanced behind himself for sign of Ren, but he didn’t seem to be following him. Ren remained peevish about Hux’s relationship with the Restitution’s young captain, despite all assurances that were Hux even to feel romantically compelled by her qualities as a person, the fact that she was a woman was an irrefutable deterrent. Not for a single moment in his life had a woman stirred those kinds of feelings in him. 

Hux wasn’t sure he could say the same for Ren, but chose not to ask—he had enough reason to be irked by the thought of Ren’s scavenger girl. 

He changed quickly, casting furtive glances at the door despite the fact that he knew Ren had run everyone off and that the door was locked. He’d never gotten used to the communal showers of his youth or the casual nature of disrobing in locker rooms—those were the times that it felt like anyone could simply take a single look at him and  _ know _ where his interests lay. That he would be caught out and then cast out for it. 

Hux ground his teeth at the way that he still jumped at shadows in his thirties, long after he’d left that weak, fearful boy in the past and embraced who he was now. He’d done that less when authority and his freedom to steer his own course hadn’t been usurped by Force mystics who treated the First Order like a plaything for their amusement. 

_ Bitter. _ He was still bitter about it, even though he was sleeping with one of them now. Even though he’d almost stopped telling himself that it was ultimately to his benefit, that it cemented his power. 

He hung his uniform jacket in the locker and stored his gym bag at the base of it, then closed the door and keyed in a passcode. Frustrated energy almost crackled in the air as he walked back into the gym proper, eyes fixing on Ren and finding that some of that frustration was centered on him. Why, though, Hux wasn’t sure. It felt a little like Ren had control of him some way, and Hux hated that.

Ren caught his eyes at that moment, holding his gaze while he stretched both arms above his head. Ren had removed his tunic, wearing only the sleeveless, form-fitting undershirt. Ren’s body was easy to admire, and now that Hux allowed himself to, he didn’t bother to hide it. But he didn’t want Ren to question the foul mood written on his face, so averted his eyes.

“Part of me wants to send someone back to the planet to bring me one of those  _ things _ ,” Hux told him, stretching his own arm across his chest. “So I can test myself against it.” 

It would have been easy for Ren to state the obvious—that the likely outcome of that was a violent, bloody death, but Ren was a lot better at keeping his mouth shut than Hux.

“AVA could probably create a sim of it,” he suggested cautiously, then added as almost a disclaimer, “It’s a secret we should keep, though.” 

“Until when?” Hux asked. It was something they’d discussed before—what to do with the game-changing fortune hidden on S9-02—but Ren was cagey about it. Like he was waiting on some sort of divine ordinance. 

“Until our power is secure,” Ren said. “Why have one more thing to fight for?” 

Hux smirked. “Are you saying galactic domination is enough for the moment?”

Ren snorted. “Yes. For now.” 

Part of Hux bristled at the proximity this had to being told what to do, when to do it. He thought that in a battle of wills with Ren, he’d most likely prevail, because he believed Ren truly cared for him. That, however, was something he knew he shouldn’t abuse, because Ren had left a trail of blood behind him of those that once had trusted him, and those that had loved him. The Supreme Leader had his limits.

Facing him now, Hux put his pride on ice for the moment. “Spar me,” he said, flexing his fingers, curling them into a fist and out again. 

Ren paused mid-stretch, like he was paralyzed by the suggestion. He started to speak, but Hux watched him visibly swallow whatever he’d been about to say. Hux heard it anyway. 

_ You’ll reinjure your shoulder. Your knee is still weak. You’re too small, not strong enough. Force-null.  _

Ren’s eyebrow quirked and he dropped his arms to his side slowly. “Parameters?” 

“No Force tricks,” Hux said reluctantly. “Otherwise…” He shrugged. 

“Lightsaber?” Ren teased. Ren never went anywhere without his, though it was across the room on top of his discarded tunic.

Hux bent at the waist, pulling up the right leg of his polyknit trainers and drawing his knife from the holster around his calf. He stood up, flicking the release on the grip. The four-inch blade snapped out, gleaming in the overhead light. 

“Lightsaber,” he told Ren with a dark smile full of challenge, daring him to argue. 

Ren looked stricken for the space of a few seconds, but then he sighed and held his hand aloft at his side. Before he could snatch the ‘saber from across the room, Hux corrected him. 

“No Force tricks, Ren. Walk over there like a karking mortal and pick the damned thing up.” 

Ren rolled his eyes, but he acquiesced, crossing the gymnasium and snatching the weapon. Without preamble, he powered it on and turned back to Hux. 

The sound of it had once terrified Hux. The low, electric hum made his teeth buzz, charging the air, spitting like a cut power line. The smell was acrid, the red glow of it painting Ren like a vengeful spirit of rage. 

That terror had become the sound of his salvation on S9-02, however—had been the herald of Hux’s split-second deliverance from the jaws of the nightmare creatures that had consumed all sentient life on the planet. That ‘saber was the same one he himself had held to defend Ren from the beasts when he had no other weapon. 

Hux knew he was safe from it. As long as Ren cared for him. 

He was about to open his mouth to tell Ren not to coddle him in this, to actually  _ fight _ , but before he could get the words out Ren had launched himself forward and swung the ‘saber in a heavy-handed arc straight for Hux’s head. 

Hux was shocked into motion, dropping into a crouch, fingers on the floor for balance and blood in his mouth from having bitten his tongue. He felt the static whir of the ‘saber pass over him, felt his hair flutter, knew that Ren had judged his timing well enough that it wouldn’t have hit him. That he’d have had time to stop. 

_ It was still thrilling.  _

Hux sprang to his feet a mere second after the lightsaber passed over him, darting forward to Ren’s left, thrusting his knife toward his belly while Ren’s arm was still crossed over his chest. Ren reacted lightning-fast, spinning to his left, lightsaber tracing the air in a 360 degree arc, side stepping Hux’s attack by inches, then dancing around him. With his free hand, Ren snatched Hux’s forearm, his knife-arm, pinched and twisted his wrist until he dropped his knife, and then yanked him around so Hux’s back was to his chest. 

Ren crossed both arms around him, Hux’s knife-hand locked to his side by Ren’s superior strength and the other plastered to his belly by Ren’s hand on his wrist . The lightsaber crackled in front of Hux, making red spots dance in his eyes. 

Ren held him that way, both of them panting, the rise and fall of it in synch. Ren nudged Hux at the juncture of neck and jaw with his nose, making Hux compulsively cock his head. Ren’s breath was hot on his ear, making gooseflesh prickle on Hux’s arms and blood pulse toward his dick. 

Hux hummed low in his throat, shifting back against Ren, fitting himself to Ren’s body and hearing him make an answering sound. As expected, Ren’s grip slackened, and Hux encouraged his loss of control by tilting his head more, opening his neck for Ren’s lips. They were soft, warm, and as they traced the contour of Hux’s neck, Ren’s ‘saber arm fell away. 

_If Ren thought they were done with this spar, he was wrong._

Hux slammed his elbow back into Ren’s stomach. The air whooshed out of Ren’s lungs and Hux launched himself out of his grip, diving for the floor, snatching his knife, and whirling around to face him. 

Ren had stumbled back a step, doubled over. When he straightened, he was grinning. 

“Damn, you’re mean,” he said, laughing. 

Hux just smiled. 

*******

The shower stream was almost unbearably hot, filling the refresher with thick steam, turning the stall glass opaque. Rivulets of water trailed through the condensation in tiny, haphazard pathways. Hux breathed in the moist air, thinking of S9-02’s humid jungles, then shoving the thought away. 

Ren’s fingers were in his hair, massaging shampoo through it, teasing the oil of sweat off his scalp with his fingernails. It felt good, threatened to make Hux’s eyes flutter shut, distracting him from the myriad aches and pains from his their spar in the gym.

For some reason, these showers had become a ritual of theirs, a way to create a pocket in the universe that was only theirs. S9-02 had been that for them—the microcosm in which this thing between them had grown. At times, the callback to that comforted Hux, made him feel like he was stripped bare of his worries, but then other times...it made him anxious, like that hell planet was clawing at him, trying to drag him back. 

Just now, though, he was limp-boned and relaxed, sated by the violent workout in the gym and then by an hour of good sex in his bed. Their bed. The room originally assigned to Ren, the one on the other side of the conference chamber, rarely saw use. Ren meditated there and he kept meager possessions there for show, but they never slept apart. 

And now Ren would be leaving him, going who knew where and to accomplish a thing  _ somehow _ . 

_ That _ fanned anxiety in Hux’s chest. 

“Maybe we should wait,” he murmured to Ren. For a moment he didn’t think Ren had heard him, but then he spoke. 

“Waiting is the last thing we should do.” 

His fingers fell out of Hux’s hair and he coaxed his head back into the water, flushing the soap out. They stood there under the stream for a long minute before Hux stepped out from it, turning and running his hands over his skull, plastering his hair back, wiping water out of his eyes. 

“I’ll go with you,” he said. 

Ren wiped water out of his own eyes, frowning. He picked up the shampoo and poured some in his palm, lathering it into his long hair before speaking. 

“I want you safe here. I need to be able to think clearly.” 

Hux knew he wasn’t being coy, wasn’t referring to being blinded by lust. The need they’d had to protect each other on S9-02 had made them both stupid and careless by turns. 

“You should know by now I can handle myself,” Hux said. “I spent a lifetime without you, if you recall.” He put a hand on Ren’s arm and made him turn around so Hux could massage the soap into his scalp. 

“You’re staying here,” Ren said, a note of finality in it. “I can’t see anything at the end of this path. Just darkness. I won’t take you with me.” 

Hux’s hands froze. “Are you saying you’re walking into death?” 

Ren shrugged one shoulder. “I told you, I don’t know.” 

A heavy knot formed in Hux’s gut and his throat closed. It was a long moment before he found words that he could actually speak aloud—words that weren’t pleading and frantic. 

“I don’t choose this over you, Kylo” he said, the realization hitting him hard, the truth of it yanked out of him. 

Ren was silent for a time, head tilted back in Hux’s hands, then he bent under the shower spray and scrubbed the soap out of his hair before he turned to face Hux. 

“No one has ever chosen me over anything,” he said quietly, the words barely registering to Hux over the sound of the running water. 

Hux didn’t know what to say to that, but Ren saved him the trouble of a response by tilting Hux’s chin up with his fingers and kissing him. 

“I’m still going,” Ren said. “And you’re still staying here.” 

Hux took a deep, shuddering breath, clenching his hands, forcing them to unfurl. He’d once needed Ren out of his way so desperately it had frayed him to the bone, but now the thought of losing him made Hux feel hollow inside. 

“Two weeks,” he said. “Just a little more time.”

Ren’s brows furrowed. He looked like he would object, like he would tell Hux that  _ more time _ would just eat away at any advantage they had, but then he just nodded shortly. 

Hux let out the breath that was making his lungs burn, then let Ren pull him close. He linked his arms around Ren’s waist and breathed in the damp, clean scent of him. Hux tried to take comfort in the solid shape of him, his nearness, but at the edge of his vision was that darkness that Ren said he saw at the end of this path, creeping closer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is going to consume a lot of my soul, I already know it, so PLEASE leave me a comment, let me know you're enjoying it, what you thought when you were reading, etc! I'm DISMAL at replying in a timely fashion but I always try to engage with everyone, and I really, really appreciate hearing from you. Some days reading comments is what gets me writing. 
> 
> I do respectfully request not to receive any criticisms, neither negative nor those with constructive intentions. Thank you!
> 
> You can find me on Twitter if you want to chat! (@JoolesZA)


	3. Chapter 3

**Darkness** . So complete it felt like a living thing, breathing in synch with him, either a shell or a cage. Or both. He could see nothing, and yet somehow he knew that he was at the bottom of a deep pit, a puncture wound in the earth, an oubliette. He could hear the sound of war above him, of ships breaking apart, of men screaming, of the vacuum of space sucking oxygen from the innards of a star destroyer. 

A pulse rifle, firing a single shot.

Kylo woke then, snapped abruptly out of the dream by a sudden, sharp pain in his chest. He jerked his hand up to his breastbone, pressing hard against the ache as though he could hold the pulsing pain in. It was a moment before he realized he wasn’t breathing, and sucked in a deep breath, shivering. 

The pain started to fade then, but left behind it a deep unease. His heart beat loudly in his own ears, a cadence of doom.

He rolled over, seeking comfort, wanting to forget. Hux was beside him, curled on his side and facing away. Kylo slid his arm around Hux’s waist and molded his body to shape of his lover’s. He wanted to go back to sleep, but he felt Hux’s breathing change and knew he’d woken him up—Hux had always been a light sleeper. 

“More dreams?” Hux murmured. 

For all Hux claimed not to be as sensitive as Kylo, he was remarkably attuned to Kylo’s moods. Maybe it was some kind of latent feedback through the Force. 

“It’s nothing,” Kylo said quietly, lips pressed to the back of Hux’s skull.  _ Nothing I want to talk about. Nothing I understand. Something bad. _

Hux was silent, though Kylo could tell he was thinking of demanding the truth. He didn’t need the Force for that—Hux’s body went tense when faced with conflict. Had Kylo been able to see his face just then, Hux’s eyes would be slitted and steel blue, his jaw set in a hard line, red-gold eyebrows making a furrow above his nose. 

Then the tension seeped away with a soft, resigned sigh. Hux had decided not to ask his questions, either knowing Kylo would deflect them, or deciding he didn’t truly want to hear the answers. Kylo’s dreams lately were all dark, all ominous, and Hux had all of that he needed from the emperor’s brief manifesto. 

Kylo relaxed, closing his eyes and settling his forehead against Hux’s neck, wanting consciousness to let go, but then Hux stirred. Kylo made a discontented sound low in his throat, disappointed that Hux seemed intent on leaving the warm cocoon of their bed as he shifted away, stirring beneath the blankets. But then Hux turned, facing him. He said nothing, but laid a hand on Kylo’s chest, pushed him to his back, and swung a leg over his hips, straddling him, naked from the waist down. 

Hux looked down at him, eyes half-lidded. The reddish glow of the bedside chronometer was all the light in the room, only just picking out the lines of Hux’s lithe body as he pulled the t-shirt over his head. Kylo understood then, feeling the blood immediately rushing to his cock. 

Hux wasn't much for foreplay—too tender, too intimate for him, Kylo thought. Kylo longed for it, but was content with the little hints of it that sometimes swam to the surface between them. Like the way Hux leaned down then and kissed him slowly, carefully, as though it was a thing that had to be done a certain and precise way. It was remarkably  _ Hux _ , and Kylo treasured it, just as he appreciated what Hux was doing—distracting him, burning out the shadows in Kylo’s head. 

Kylo slid a hand into Hux's hair, soft and mussed from sleep, cradling his skull. He held Hux to him, prolonging the kiss, trying to shove away the hollow feeling growing in his chest that every moment between them was starting to feel like a prolonged, ultimate  _ goodbye _ . 

Hux pulled away then, sitting back and looking at him, splaying a hand over Kylo's chest. It was most likely a coincidence, but  _ that _ was where it hurt. Where Kylo had felt that sharp ache when he'd woken up, residue from his dream. But then, Kylo also knew that there was some thread that bound them to one another, like gravity holding two celestial bodies in the same orbit, powerless to break free even if they wanted to. 

Kylo opened his mouth to speak, to tell Hux what was in his heart, but Hux lifted his hand and touched two fingers to Kylo's lips, trapping the words there. Kylo sighed, but let it go. 

Hux watched him, fingers still pressed over Kylo's lips, like he was waiting to be sure Kylo wouldn't speak before he took them away. He kept his gaze locked to Kylo's even as he removed them, and Kylo couldn't help wondering what it really was that Hux didn't want to hear. 

Kylo kept the silence.

Seeing that he would, Hux took lubricant from the bedside table and worked himself open in his own way—quickly, driven by the objective he wanted. It was still sexy, Kylo thought, to watch Hux's cock slowly fatten. His own grew thick between Hux's legs just from the thought of having him, and he was fully hard when Hux stroked his slick palm down Kylo's shaft and then sank slowly onto it. 

It brought a low groan to Kylo's throat, one he didn't bother to hold in. No matter how many times they did this, and it was often, the moment when he first entered Hux's body always punched the breath out of him. 

Hux was tense under Kylo's hands at first—thighs taut, hips rigid while he took Kylo all the way in. Kylo couldn't help the way his own hips twitched just a little, wanting to fuck up into him, to chase the hot, wet clutch around his cock, but Hux slapped a hand to his chest again, fingers curling in, nails biting into his skin. Kylo bit his bottom lip hard, feeling his cock twitch at the little lightning spark of pain. Hux knew he liked it, almost as much as the so-rare tenderness, and it was the thing that Hux was better at giving him. 

Reading his body language if not his mind, Hux dragged his hand from the center of Kylo's chest to the side, pinching one nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Not hard at first, but working it instantly to a hard nub, rolling it, tugging lightly. 

Kylo forced himself not to move, letting Hux have his way. He didn't let him always. Sometimes he would put Hux on his back and have him hard whether Hux was asking for it or not. Hux  _ wouldn't _ ask. Manipulation was more his style, and sometimes Kylo saw it, sometimes not. Sometimes he let it play out, and sometimes he didn't.

Right now, Kylo just wanted this to last. He wanted every second he had with Hux, so he let the teasing touches and the languid way he started to move in Kylo's lap fill his head, stop him from thinking about the whispering of ghosts. 

Hux didn't let him come. Not for a long while. He was well-attuned to Kylo's body, to his tells, and went still when the quiver of Kylo's muscles or the ragged sound of his breathing told him that he'd brought Kylo to the edge. He let Kylo do no more than rest his hands in a loose circle around his hips, pushing them back if they strayed. 

Hux had no aversion to Kylo's touch—Kylo knew that. It was just one way Hux said  _ you're mine _ . 

In Hux's language, that was intertwined with  _ and you will do what I want.  _

Afterward, with Kylo warm and sated and fuzzy-headed, Hux did leave him. The rustle of sheet and blanket, the dim glow of the refresher light that followed a handspan of seconds later were sensory input at the edge of Kylo's drifting consciousness. He heard the shower turn on. That Hux preferred water over the sonic was perhaps his one, decadent indulgence—unless Kylo counted himself, which might have been hubris. His  _ weakness _ . That is what Hux had called him. 

The corner of Kylo's mouth curled up, feeling something between fondness and  _ smug _ . It filled something in his soul to be the only one to whom Hux had opened that door to his inner self. He claimed to have no heart, but he did, and Kylo knew it was his. Even if Hux would never say so in those words. 

He listened to the distant, soft drone of water falling, drifting toward sleep again, but then the claws of his last nightmare started to catch at him, to drag him back down, and Kylo's eyes snapped open. Sleep was banished. 

He threw the covers off, sitting up and swinging his feet to the floor. He ran his hands through his hair, fingers catching in tangles. Tugging them loose stung his scalp, making him wince. He liked it better when Hux did this with his careful, slender fingers. 

He stood, stretching, then padded across the room. The shower was still running, which told Kylo that Hux was waiting on him. 

* * *

_ “I don’t choose this over you, Kylo.”  _

Hux turned the words over in his mind while gazing, unseeing, out of the leeward window on the bridge of the Restitution. The subdued sound of a well-run ship soothed his frayed nerves, which was why he’d come here. 

Not only that. He noticed and reveled in the looks worn on crew members' faces—awe, a hint of fear,  _ respect.  _ Hux didn't need to be standing in Ren's shadow anymore, seething at the fact that everyone looked at  _ Ren _ that way while dismissing the grand marshal who destroyed worlds, who eradicated an entire, corrupted, false impression of order with a superweapon he himself had built. 

Slowly, Hux's eyes moved over the sleek shell of the Supremacy, which he knew that he was jealously guarding with his handful of predatory ships.  _ His _ ships. 

The Steadfast was out there too, skulking near Turik Station's central hub. Hux glared at it, eyes slitted and seeing something other than the ship itself. 

_ Music played softly in the background—some sort of jazz fusion, muted by the drone of voices. People huddled in pockets defined by rank, by experience, and Hux, whose day it was, stood alone. He was nursing a bourbon on ice with tiny sips amid long intervals of swirling the amber liquid in his glass slowly, absently. His other hand was tucked behind him, mid-back, fist curled. Even at an informal event like this, he couldn't relax, couldn't let go of the soldier.  _

_ That was why he'd been promoted to captain at the age of twenty-four—because this was in his bones. Order, leadership. He'd earned this, and if standing out forced him to stand apart...well. So be it.  _

_ He'd just brought the glass to his lips, just tasted the hint of woodsy, sweet bourbon when a familiar voice spoke from his back right. Hux didn't jump—he was too well trained for that. He tensed though, the way he would if his next action had been to draw his knife and slam it into this man's gut.  _

_ His only tell was that he paused for the briefest of seconds in taking that sip of his drink, and so he went on with it. Then he turned, facing the general who had crept up behind him.  _

_ General Enric Pryde smiled at him, washed-out blue eyes crinkling at the corners. Hux processed then the words that the general had spoken a moment before.  _

"A promotion well-earned, young Armitage Hux." 

_ Hux was taken aback by the compliment. The general was an old Imperial, the rare sort of anachronism that looks down on even Hux's father. To men like Pryde, the First Order were a bunch of children playing dress up in their elders' uniforms. Not the sort of man Hux would ever have imagined he'd garner praise from.  _

"Thank you, General,"  _ Hux said _ ,  _ remaining expressionless.  _

_ Pryde studied him, then his own smile deepened, like Hux had passed some sort of test.  _

"It can't have escaped your attention that not everyone is pleased with your ascension,"  _ the general added.  _

_ Hux's eyes narrowed just a touch. Had Pryde approached him to point out the obvious as a means to gloat? To rub it in? Instantly going on the defensive, though, would make him seem as though he doubts whether he should be here.  _

"It has not escaped my attention in the least,"  _ Hux said, though it was an effort not to say something prideful instead, such as 'they are bitter, being shown up by someone half their age."  _

_ The general cocked his head, almost as though he'd heard Hux's true thoughts.  _ "There are machinations at work beyond even such a clever and perceptive mind as your own,"  _ he told Hux.  _ "Meet me for dinner tomorrow evening in my private suite, and I'll do my best to enlighten you." 

_ Pryde took a sip of his own drink, then tilted the glass toward Hux before striding away from him. He hadn't bothered to wait for a reply, sensing—correctly—that he didn't need to. Hux was not the sort to leave a hook like that bobbing in the currents. It was one of the sharpest weapons in Hux's collection, to know what others wished him not to.  _

"A beautiful sight, isn't it, Grand Marshal?" 

This time, in the present moment, the unexpected voice behind him did startle Hux. He did flinch, but was instantly grateful for being tugged forcefully out of that memory. He turned his head, giving Captain Dystra a thin smile. 

She tilted her head toward the window, ensuring Hux grasped her meaning. The shipyard, the destroyers, the Supremacy. All beautiful. 

"It is," Hux agreed with honesty. 

She returned his smile, then turned to face the same panorama. "I thought that I would ask if you'd like to join me for dinner after the Executive Officer's meeting." Hux saw her eyes swing to his in the reflection. "In a professional capacity, of course." 

Hux glanced at her again. She met his gaze coolly, not giving Hux the sense that she had any sort of ulterior motive. He wondered whether the caveat she'd tacked on to the question was because she had some suspicions about Hux and Ren, or if it was universally necessary for a female officer when requesting the company of men. 

The moment of silence in which he'd analyzed her words had stretched a bit too long, so he finished it with a short nod. "I would like that," he told her. He wasn't looking forward to this meeting, and always came out of them feeling slightly trod upon. Dystra respected him. Deferred to him. He'd be in need of that. 

"Excellent," she said, the tight-lipped smile appearing again briefly. "I'm on my way to the conference room now." 

She paused long enough that Hux read the cue for what it was. 

"I'll walk with you, then," he said. 

Another thing about Dystra that Hux appreciated was that the captain had little interest in small talk. Hux was able to stride across the bridge at her side and focus only on the perfection of it. The fully helmed stations, the officers and crew with starched, prim uniforms and straight backs. Alert eyes that darted to him with that slightly awed expression that made Hux feel so utterly  _ alive _ . Like he was at an epicenter of power, a command away from having the might of this megaton star destroyer and her sister fleet to enforce his will. 

Approaching the conference room, Hux bit back a grimace as he thought the first thing he'd like to do with his deadly fleet was pack up all these overstuffed, cocky executive officers into a shuttle and blast the damned thing out of the vacuum. He'd thought once that he could prove to this ilk that he deserved his place among them, despite being a decade younger than anyone else of his rank. And he might have, if not for his damnable entanglement with Snoke and his volatile apprentice. 

Ren had warned Hux that he radiated bitterness in this room, that however much Hux thought he might be concealing it, he wasn't. Hux had a fine line to trod to avoid showing outright disdain, but it was another way Ren soothed his spirit—the Supreme Leader didn't care what these bastards thought of him, wasn't bound by military code, and cultivated fear. Hux could maintain his own decorum, and live vicariously as a tyrant through his lover. 

There was a time, not so long ago but impossibly distant in his mind, that he would have despised himself for the thought. For accepting  _ second place _ . He wasn't sure that he'd ever find a way to say out loud, but now, he felt like this was where he was  _ supposed _ to be. Not fighting it anymore would have to be testament enough. 

******

Executive meetings were always rife with a strange tension, one Hux recognized as a roomful of military officers used to speaking their mind who were now afraid to open their mouths. Ren was content to let Hux lead the agenda, sitting at his side at the head of the table, his dark eyes flitting from face to face as though daring anyone to show dissent. 

As such, the meetings were blessedly brief. Exactly thirty-three minutes after they'd convened, the room began to empty quickly. Hux stayed seated, watching the others file out. All except Allegiant General Pryde. The man remained sitting across the expansive oval table, back straight, hands on the arms of his chair.

Hux waited until every other officer had filed out of the room, then took a moment to look at his data pad and update the top agenda items before he glanced up, as though just noticing Pryde was still sitting there.

Hux saw a muscle twitch in Pryde's cheek and suppressed a smile. 

"Yes?" Hux asked blandly, raising both eyebrows. Ren was still sitting beside him, slouched now in his chair, legs sprawled before him, hands folded over his chest, looking as disinterested in Pryde's presence as Hux. Hux wondered if it was on purpose. 

Pryde avoided looking at Ren, not because—Hux thought—the allegiant general was afraid of him, but because Ren was anathema. A peripheral beneath his notice. 

"You've failed to address one glaring fact," Pryde said, sounding like an academy instructor admonishing Hux for a training misstep. 

Hux didn't rise to it. 

"That you sent my ship on that fool's mission to Batuu?" he asked instead. "And all but scuttled her?" Hux had been livid to discover that the Finalizer had been ordered to Batuu during his absence. The mission had been a resounding failure, and not one Hux would have bungled so badly. He suspected Pryde had done it on purpose to spite him. For that alone, Pryde deserved a firing squad 

But the allegiant general didn't even bother to acknowledge Hux's words now. "The transmission clearly indicates that—"

"It indicates nothing," Ren growled, sitting forward suddenly, both palms striking the table with a sharp report. 

Neither Hux nor Pryde flinched, facing off across the table. Finally, however, Pryde turned those cold, reptilian eyes on Ren. Hux watched the gears turning in the allegiant general's mind, likely deciding just how insubordinate he could be. 

"I should think," Pryde finally said, "that you would be concerned about the potential threat to your...power." 

"What threat is that?" Ren asked, not missing a beat. The undercurrent was obvious. 

Hux knew that Pryde had absolutely no concern for the security of Ren's power. There was something else at play here. 

"Don't equivocate, Allegiant General," Hux inserted. "You served the emperor once. Your kind of loyalty is blind. Are you hatching plans to restore him to power, ghost or not?"

"Ghost?" Pryde spat, lip creasing in a sneer. "The emperor…" He came to an abrupt stop, eyes flicking from Hux to Ren again. 

"Do continue," Ren said in a low voice. 

Pryde's face twisted with a hint of defiance, mouth opening and then closing as though he'd just bitten back words that might well have been a death sentence. 

"There are many," he finally said, "who would feel their loyalty lay with his regime. But I have no doubt that fact has not escaped you. What do you intend to do about it? Divided loyalties in military hierarchies…" He looked at Hux, a mocking smile appearing. "...complicate things." 

Hux itched to put a plasma bolt through Pryde's smug face to wipe that expression off. "You're right about that," he said musingly, cocking his head as though he'd just thought of it. He turned to look at Ren. "We wouldn't want divided loyalties, would we, Supreme Leader?"

Ren had no trouble picking up his insinuation. "Of course not, General," he said, sitting back in his chair again. To Pryde he said, "Thank you for the emphasis. You can be sure that we will think very carefully on how to remove any such...complications." 

"You're dismissed," Hux said, 

Pryde surged to his feet, glaring down at Hux. "You impetuous brat," he said. "You have no authority to…"

Ren interrupted him, the atmosphere in the room suddenly thick. Hux recognized the familiar echo of Ren's anger in the Force. "I would think very carefully about your next words." 

Pryde snapped his mouth closed.

"Get out," Ren added. Then, because he was always one for drama, he flicked his hand, shoving Pryde's abandoned chair to the side with the Force. With another twitch of his fingers, the door opened behind the allegiant general, and Ren swept his arm toward the corridor beyond in a mocking, magnanimous gesture.

The color drained out of Pryde's face in a white rage, but he kept his mouth shut. He had little other choice but to turn and stride out of the room, and Hux imagined the effort it must have taken to keep his head up. 

The door sealed shut behind him, and with his departure, the violent energy in the room thinned. 

"Asshole," Ren muttered. 

Hux pressed his lips together in a dark smile, heart thrumming in his chest with a strange thrill. He felt like he'd just held a blaster to the allegiant general's head, finger on the trigger, even though it was Ren's display of power that had sent Pryde skulking from the room.

"Let me kill him," he said to Ren, still staring at the door in a trance. 

"I will," Ren told him. "When he's outlived his usefulness." Having said that, Ren stood, looking down at Hux. "You can do whatever you like with him."

Hux had no shortage of ideas, his current favorite involving his old friend the parnassos beetle. 

Hux stood as well, but left his datapad on the table. He started toward the door, feeling high, like he'd swallowed a stim. Instead of opening the door, however, he thumbed in his code and locked it. 

Ren was watching him when Hux turned around, Hux's abandoned data pad in his hand, probably having meant to follow him out with it. Hux watched him put things together in his mind--the clearance locked door, Hux's half-lidded eyes, the way Hux had his bottom lip just slightly pinched between his teeth. 

The datapad slipped from Ren's fingers and back to the table. The Supreme Leader's dark eyes tracked him as Hux crossed the room to him again. The expression on Ren's face had changed slightly, showing Hux that he knew very well what he wanted and why. 

Hux dug his fingers into Ren's tunic when they came together, pulling him close, sliding his hands down to cup Ren's ass. Ren made a low sound, smiling, running his hands along Hux's upper arms, curling them around his biceps. 

"I regret not being close enough to you the day you took out the Hosnian system," he teased, leaning down and kissing Hux, nipping his bottom lip, not quite gently. 

Hux's cock twitched, already half-hard. He slid his tongue into Ren's mouth, pressed himself close, hip to hip, a low groan in his throat when he felt Ren's cock start to fatten against his own. 

He broke their kiss, whispering _ ,  _ " _Fuck me_ ," breath hot against Ren's lips. 

Ren stepped back from him just enough to turn Hux roughly around to face the table. He circled Hux with his arms from behind, fingers deftly unclasping Hux's belt and unfastening his pants. He palmed Hux's swollen dick through them, caressing, mapping out the shape of it before he pulled the zipper down and then pushed trousers and briefs down at the same time.

Then the heat of Ren's body was gone for a moment. Hux listened to the metal click of his belt, the whisper of fabric, and then felt the thick weight of Ren's cock pressed along the crease of his ass. Ren molded himself to Hux's body, big hand enveloping Hux's dick and stroking it, unhurried, kissing Hux's neck. 

He didn't make Hux wait long—Ren knew just where the edge of Hux's want for tenderness lay. The indulgent affection was replaced with a firm hand against Hux's middle back, pushing him forward, making Hux catch himself with palms against the table-top. Hux heard the sound of Ren spitting into his own hand, pictured him wetting his dick with it, and then felt slick fingers between his cheeks. He gasped as Ren worked them in. The movements were slower than Hux wanted, but no matter how many times he'd asked for it, he couldn't get Ren to  _ really _ hurt him. 

It was close enough when Ren's cock spread him open. He wasn't wet enough even when Ren rubbed more spit between them, but Hux didn't care. All he cared about was how good it felt when Ren started moving, hitting a deep place inside him that made Hux's skin flush red and his cock jump with every thrust. 

It didn't last long. They never did in semi-public places like this. Hux came seconds before Ren, watching his own come spurt across the polished, faux-wood table. It was filthy, and looking at the mess he'd made prolonged the hot waves of his climax. 

At last, after the high had started to wane, Ren pulled out of him slowly, fingers replacing his cock as he caught the fluid dripping from Hux's hole, rubbing it along the crease of his ass, pushing some back into him. They'd been doing this after the one time such a tryst had soiled Hux's uniform and made him loathe to walk the halls back to his room.

Hux was jelly-kneed as he finally dragged his underwear and his pants back up over his hips, turning to look at Ren as he closed them. Ren's color was high, eyes lust-sated. Hux couldn't imagine that anyone would see the Supreme Leader when he left this room without realizing he'd just been well-fucked. 

Ren leaned forward and caught Hux's lips with his own, then pulled back and finished buckling his belt. He ran both hands through his hair, leaving it no less tousled.

"I'm taking my ship out for a while," he told Hux. It was a prototype to replace the Silencer, lost on S9-02. 

"Be careful," Hux said quietly, turning to scrub the mess off the table with the remnants of a cup of water and a beverage napkin. Then he looked over his shoulder. "And you'd better come back."

Ren looked briefly surprised, but probably guessed what Hux meant.  _ Don't go chasing ghosts. Not yet. _

"I will," Ren promised, then kissed him again and strode across the room, letting himself out into the corridor.

Hux lingered, fussing over the state of the table until he felt it was clean enough, then he picked up his datapad and queued a cleaning droid. Satisfied, he tucked the device under his arm and followed Ren out the door. 

He was lost in thought as he walked, limbs loose and head clear, and so when a door hissed open to his right and that hated voice said his name, Hux missed a step. He turned abruptly, no way to save himself the embarrassment of being so obviously startled. 

Allegiant General Pryde stood in the frame of the doorway to his private office, hands clasped behind his back, smug face set along well-worn creases. Blue eyes danced with amusement over Hux from head to toe. 

Hux was flooded with shame, horrified to feel his cheeks warming. There was no way to hide that with his complexion. 

"Up to your same tricks, I see," Pryde said.

"I don't take your meaning," Hux snapped. 

"Of course you do. Taken more than that, I think." 

Hux's shame mingled with rage now, fingers twitching and curling in. One, precise flick of his hand would have his monomolecular blade in his palm, on its way to Pryde's throat. 

He saw Pryde's eyes track the movement, then move lazily back to Hux's face. He'd taken on the kind of indulgent expression one might give a foolish child. It was a look Hux had seen before, and despised. 

"There is a thin line between us," Hux told him in a hiss. 

Pryde raised an eyebrow. "One you'll cross when your Supreme Leader lets you off your leash?" 

Hux had no easy retort for that, and chose not to splutter pathetically. Instead, he stared into the allegiant general's eyes and pictured the future, wondering if just  _ maybe _ , something of Palpatine's blood might make these visions of suffering and decay take form in Pryde's mind. 

He didn't linger to find out, snapping his gaze away and walking briskly down the hall with as much dignity as he could muster. He barely breathed as he traversed the path to his quarters on auto-pilot. Once inside, sealed away, he felt himself quivering with his unchecked temper, and forced himself to calm down. 

_ Inhale.  _

_ Exhale.  _

_ Plan a death. _

He finally peeled himself away from the entry-way with a steady pulse, untucking the datapad from beneath his arm as he moved farther into his quarters. He started to lay it on a table, but stopped mid-motion.

The screen was shattered, shot through with cracks like a spider web. It had not been that way when he left the conference room. And it shouldn't be that way now, no matter how hard it had been tucked at his side. It was housed in a military grade, shock-proof shell.

Hux held it up, staring, seeing his reflection broken into pieces on the surface of it. In his memory, Palpatine's voice floated to the surface again, whispering about the work of generations. 

**Author's Note:**

> This story is going to consume a lot of my soul, I already know it, so PLEASE leave me a comment, let me know you're enjoying it, what you thought when you were reading, etc! I'm DISMAL at replying in a timely fashion but I always try to engage with everyone, and I really, really appreciate hearing from you. Some days reading comments is what gets me writing. 
> 
> I do respectfully request not to receive any criticisms, neither negative nor those with constructive intentions. Thank you!
> 
> You can find me on Twitter if you want to chat! (@JoolesZA)


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